


The sound below

by kazuza



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: M/M, Multi, Obsessive Behavior, Pining, Season/Series 01, Slow Burn, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-14 01:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20592299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazuza/pseuds/kazuza
Summary: Peter got himself a cute stalker and like fungus, it grows on him.Basically, this is me rewriting season one as a love story between Roman and Peter instead of Peter and Letha like the canon.





	1. Episode 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since it is a rewriting of season 1, a lot of scene and dialogs will be the same especially in the two first chapters. I am trying to switch the point of views to make it more interesting. This will be book and tv show canon compliant mostly. The only thing I changed is making Peter bi curious instead of heterosexual. Hope you will enjoy it !

** Episode 1 **

  


First day in a new school was always shitty, whatever the school, the place, the time of the month. Peter would have liked to believe he was used to it by now, being the stranger, the pariah, the gypsy white trash, but somehow it still wasn’t the case. 

He was sticking out like a sore thumb in the clothes that’s screamed I am a poor fuck who lives in the woods to pretty much all the kids around. He shook his head, letting slightly too long, unwashed hair fly around. There were many advantages for long hair: hiding his face, no hairdresser costs, looking perfectly fine with his hobo attire… The teenager suddenly felt chills running down his spine. Another kid was watching him intently, sitting on a low stone wall nearby, smocking. His green eyes were huge and completely focused on Peter. 

_(Creepyyy) _Peter thought, before turning his head away. Still, the guy’s face was stuck into his mind like a fucking leech. Pretty (_that mouth),_ money (by the look of his clothes and demeanor,) and probably a freaking psychopath _(or something)_. Peter’s balls were itching, and not in the good way. It was never good news.

He watched the kid _(Hemingway), _that had spent most of her summer lurking around their trailer like a hungry stray cat, pass in front of him and felt a twinge of excitement, seeing a familiar face among the mass. She was a weird but cute kid and he had grown rather fond of their little talks. But when he called for her, she rebuked him coldly. It hurts a bit, but he was not surprised. He could see on her sad, worried little face that the problem was not their relationship but what people would say about her, being with him, the gypsy freak. Peter was used to this kind of thing, with girls he fucked mostly, never good enough to show to the parents, unless pissing the parents was the plan… It didn’t make him less bitter about it. Still he wasn’t angry at her. Being a girl of that age sucked. 

Not too far from them, the psychopath was still looking. Green eyes like those of a cat, mesmerizing and predatory. Suddenly it struck Peter. 

This was an Upir. 

Balls itched some more. His grandfather had told him once he was particularly connected to his Svadhishthana **c**hakra, which was, very conveniently, placed behind his balls. It gave him freaking spot on intuitions.

Upir the pretty rich boy was still watching, just like Christina, the so called novelist little girl.

_ (Fuck this shit)  _ Peter thought, leaving both of them behind. He was better than this dammit.

  


** * **

  


All kinds of people were needed to make a world. It was one of those things that Peter believed, anyway. And damn if he was not surprised that podunk had such a wild assortment of it. The floor was literally trembling under her feet. She - ‘cause from her hair and clothes, Peter assumed she was a she - was huge. No word could described her better. He was not a big man himself, especially compared to men of his age, but she was making the tall and lanky rich boy look doll-sized. And she was… glowing. Glowing blue like a fucking video game. Hunched, as if trying to no avail really, to make herself smaller and invisible, she crossed the hall under the laughs, laced with a bit of fear, coming from most students. The twin blond bitches that were always around Hemingway passed around her, emulating her way of walking and laughing. Kids of that age could be so fucking mean. Sometimes Peter felt really, really old compared to his age.

Something about her was compelling, and he followed her a moment before Rich pretty boy went toward her. Not a big surprise to Peter than Upir’s sister was a weird glowing giant. Still. 

Compelling. 

Rich kid flashed him again those strange cat eyes, less interested and more daring this time. Peter just shrugged and carried on his way.

His balls were still  _ itching _ .

  


** * **

  


Later that night, in the warm cocoon of the trailer that was now theirs, Peter decided to share his worries with his mother. Lynda knew more than him on many things after all, and her insights were wise more often than not. 

“There is an Upir at my school.” He said thoughtfully, putting a whole spoonful of sugar in his coffee. 

Lynda looked up at him, her full attention on his words now, lips thin and deep brown eyes hard.

“He has a sister.” The teenager continued, moving his cups around to get it to cool down. “ I don’t know what she is. She is so big she fills up the doorway.”

“The Godfrey.” Lynda replied darkly. Richest family in the town, maybe even the country. It all made sense to Peter now, Pretty rich boy being the famous Roman Godfrey, heir of the whole company. Upirs knew how to dig themselves the prettiest nest, that fact was well known.

“Fucked up family.” He replied, drinking his crappy coffee. Sugar made it tolerable. But was there anything that sugar couldn’t make tolerable anyway?

Lynda caught his eyes again, looking all business and Peter knew this was not a time for jokes. Upirs were never a matter to joke about.

“The Godrey’s are my business. Stay out of this, Peter.”

“Ok.” He answered, raising his hands in defense.

“I mean it, Peter.”

“I know.”

And he did. Upirs were not a race to mess around with. A mix between a kind of succubus and vampire, they fed on human blood, lust and misery. A deadly combination. 

And yet, Peter couldn’t get Pretty boy’s cat eyes out of his mind.

  


** * **

  


Family dinner for the Roman was a dreadful affair. In their big, richly decorated but kind of gloomy dining room, sat only the three of them - dining in deadly silence. Only Shelley’s rasping breaths accompanied the sound of cutlery being used. Olivia, his beautiful cold bitch of a mother, the good matriarch she was, watched over them from the end of the table, one kid on each side. Finally, probably as bored with the oppressive silence as he was, she asked.

“Nothing enlightening to report about your first day at school?”

Usually, Roman would have just shrugged and brushed her off, but today he had something in his mind. Something that wouldn’t leave him alone since he had left school. And since he had close to no one to share it with, he found himself compelled to talk to Olivia about it.

“ There is… That new kid at school.”  _ (small, dirty, blue eyes… kind of pretty... the supposed werewolf if you believed the words of thirteen year old girl anyway… ) _

Shelley left her head bow slightly - interested, worried. She knew their mother, so did he. Still, he couldn’t stop talking now.

“ He is a gypsy. Girls are already spreading rumors about him. I think he is related to that guy that used to live in the trailer by the river.” Roman continued, despite his mother's obvious agitation at the news. He remembered the guy actually. Vince. A middle age alcoholic gypsy that sometimes would crash their party with a bottle of hooch, scaring the girls off with his stench and horrifying stories. But not Roman, no. He kind of dug it. He was also pretty sure he had seen him talking business with Olivia at least twice.  _ (probably drugs)  _ Of course, his mother would die before she acknowledge any kind of association with a man she considered lesser than trash.

Olivia, as Shelley and him kind of expected, didn’t take the news well and tossed her cutlery with an air of utter disgust. She threw her head back, pushing her long silky black hair away in an incredibly graceful gesture. 

“Filth” She whispered to herself, rubbing elegant fingers to her lips, as she used to do when she was upset.

Shelley whimpered softly, and Roman kind of regretted bringing up the subject in the first place. Olivia’s distaste for gypsies and traveling people in general was really not a secret and even if the teenager enjoyed making her cringe most of the time, he preferred to do it at a time when his sister wouldn't get caught in the crossfire. What possessed him to talk about the Rumancek boy, he just didn’t know. There was something about him. 

Something, intriguing, compelling.

The teenager was not stupid enough to believe in  rumors of werewolves, especially coming from the running mouth of a little girl, self proclaimed novelist and  always accompanied by the Sworn twins, famous for their bitchiness and gossipy tendency.

And yet… 

Gypsy boy’s clear blue eyes called to him somehow, shining bright under that mop of dirty black hair. There was something intricately wild and carefree about him. 

As if he was a half-tamed  beast  instead of a man. 

  


** * **

The day started badly for Sheriff Thomas Sworn. Really badly. A dead girl. A teenager. Same age as his daughters. And not just dead. Mangled, utterly butchered by something that appeared to be some kind of wild animal. Dick was trembling, pale as a ghost.

“Oh man, that’s bad. Really really bad… I knew her. I was in school with her dad.” 

Tom shook his head as the paramedic took the body into the ambulance. It was such a mess indeed.

Gerry got next to him, looking as distraught as both of them. 

“No weapon in sight. Car parked up on the road, it is completely busted up, with a window broken open. I never saw anything like this.”

“Jesus Christ” Tom whispered, his mind on his own two beautiful baby girls. “What kind of psycho could have done this.”

“You think it is a “person”?” Gerry asked, looking still slightly sick. 

“Beats me.”

“Who’s that kid over there” Dick asked suddenly, looking right behind Tom.

A shady looking teenager was walking on the other side of the fence, just outside the outskirts of the forest, eyeing them with a mixture of interest and distrust. Handsome kid, despite the shaggy dark hair and the hobo clothing style. All the alarms Thomas had built up since he become a Sheriff immediately went off.

“Bring him to me.” He whispered darkly. It was the gypsy little shit that was living in the old trailer behind the Godfrey mansion. The one Christina had been talking about pretty much all summer. The one she thought was a werewolf. The teenager wasn’t too impressive, thin and kind of small for his age, with boyish good looks and an air of perplexity and fear shining in his bright blue eyes as Gerry brought him over. Thomas knew better than to let a pretty face deceived him. Gypsies were trouble. Always have been and always will be. And that one, oh yes, Tom could feel it in his guts, just how much trouble he was.

“You live around here son?” He asked sternly, trying not to spook the kid, but not feeling like he could muster the benevolent paternal look he adopted around any other teenager. Not after collecting that poor girl’s pieces.

“ Eh, yeah.” The kid answered  meekly .  “ Home’s that way” he gestured toward the forest. “School’s the other way, so I was just walking through here.”

The three men looked at him expectantly.

“You happened to hear anything last night?”

Kid looked puzzle again and Tom had to admit to himself that if he was lying, he was damn good at it.

“Uh, no, it was… pretty calm I guess?”

“What’s your name?”

“Peter, uh Rumancek, Peter Rumancek Sir, but.. What’s going on, what’s...”

Tom didn’t let the kid finish. He knew nothing or was faking it perfectly, either way, this was pointless. He turned toward Dick. 

“Get his ID and his statement and make sure he gets to school, ok?”

“Yeah, no problem Tom.” Dick answered quickly, grabbing the kid by his brand new looking leather jacket (that he probably have stolen somewhere, Tom will need to take a look at this)  taking him toward his car. He looked a bit lost, and terribly young. Still, Tom didn’t like that name, that look. It smelled too much like shit.

“Rumancek...” He muttered out loud before remembering the old alcoholic waste that used to live in the trailer out there. “Vince Rumancek?”

“ Gipsy trash” Gerry grumbled, looking utterly disgusted. 

Tom couldn’t say he didn’t share the sentiment.

  


** * **

  


Even though Peter didn’t regret his summer with Hemingway, he certainly regretted pulling her leg about the whole werewolf thing. Getting a ride to school in a police car was already a big fuck up for someone like him, but he never thought people would take a little girl’s crazy gossip seriously.

Had his big mouth made his future life in this school hell on earth? 

Probably. 

Was it the first time he did this to himself? 

Nope.  _ (Me and my big fucking mouth...) _

It was a small town and it was fucking Pennsylvania, dammit. He knew better than this. Still, what was done was done and Peter was not the kind of person that let the past drag him down, especially when he couldn’t do shit about it.

Thorough that hellish day, as he learned more about the murder, Peter started to have a really bad feeling about it. His balls were in a state and he knew that it meant trouble. The victim was a girl around his age and she had been literally torn apart by what the authority supposed had been a grizzly or a cougar.

Huge predatory cat-like eyes came to his mind.

The Upir.

Peter had spotted him earlier, buying his drugs, looking perfectly well put together when everyone else was mourning the girl. Peter wasn’t mourning either, but he had an excuse. He was new, didn’t know Brooke at all. But from what he could see around, she seemed quite well known and loved. Someone like Roman Godfrey must have known her. Maybe even fucked her. It was a small town after all and she was pretty.

That evening, he asked Lynda about it.

“Do you think a Upir could have done it?”

“It could be, but it is not really their style.” She answered thoughtfully, eyebrows twisting with worry. Peter tended to agree with her on this. Upir were like parasites. They would find a good host, seduced him, take everything they could from him, while building a strong nest. They also enjoyed gore and blood but usually not in such a showy way. Most of the time, they had the means to make a body disappeared without a trace. Very unlikely for them to leave a half-mauled girl out for someone to find. 

Like a trophee.

Still Peter couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling, and the Godfrey heir’s eyes haunted him. A true Upir wouldn’t do it this way. But what about an Upir that didn’t know he was one?

“I don’t like this mom.”

“Me neither, sweet pea. Me neither.”

  
  


** * **

  


Shelley was in a state and it took a long time for Roman to calm her down. He himself didn’t quite know how to feel about all of this. He knew Brooke. There were not good friends but he knew her and she was sweet. One of the rare people to be decent to Shelley, actually. He just couldn’t believe the fact that she was dead.

Olivia had tried, in that awkward and slightly creepy way of hers to get him to talk about it. He almost preferred when she didn’t actually act like a mother. Seeing her faking it was somehow even worse. Or so he thought. Nobody could be sure about what his mother could possibly think, or feel. If she had any feelings left to spare. Most of the time, Roman felt caught between his visceral love for her and the hate he felt for everything she was. It didn’t help with the matter at hand, anyway. She asked him if he felt that he could trust her. The right answer was yes, and he gave it to her. The truth… Well it was more complicated.

Shelley wanted to go to the vigil held for Brooke that evening. In Roman’s head, very different things swam around. He had heard the gossip, the whispers and now he was… even more intrigued.

Morbidly fascinated. 

Had the gypsy boy really killed that girl? Was he actually a werewolf? The crazy type of mental case that ran around pretending to be a wolf on full moon? Or something?

Roman didn’t know. He was just… Interested. 

And for someone who lived his life as if he was already half-dead, being intrigued by something - someone - meant everything.

  


** * **

  


The paper lanterns, which people released into the dark sky for Brooke, reminded Roman of a dream he had. A million honey-colored jellyfish glowing in a dark sky. It felt like a premonition somehow and it was… Exhilarating. 

The night was fresh, but not too cold. September was still holding the warmth of summer. The fog that landed on the field gave an eerie atmosphere to the place, and knowing a murder had been recently committed there gave Roman the chills. Excitement more than fear, mostly. 

The place was empty except for one person, kneeling on the ground next to the little toy house where Brooke had met her gruesome death. Roman was not surprised, far from it. He had expected it. And here he was - the gypsy boy, who seemed to be searching for something, so absorbed in his task that he didn’t hear Roman approaching.

Was he the killer? With his presence at the scene of the crime and his highly suspicious behavior, it was not too far-fetched. But Roman wasn’t scared. Why would he be? He felt so empty already that death seemed like an improvement.

“What did it feel like? To kill her.” He asked out loud, without thinking. The gypsy jumped around to glare at him, bright blue eyes flashing. In the dim light he looked wild and dangerous, like the half-beast everyone accused him to be. 

It was like waking up from a dream after years of sleepwalking. For the first time in a long, long time, Roman felt alive. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Episode 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept some scenes from the show, and some from the book to make it more coherent and interesting. I think show!Lynda is deeper and more realistic than book!Lynda so I kept her that way. I also kept the way the book describes werewolf cause I found it more interesting and compelling. Also, sorry guys, I am not a native speaker so if you had any remarks to make this story better I am all ears!  
Hope you will like it <3

Roman looked at the gypsy boy expectantly. He blinked once, long and thick eyelashes closing on those blue eyes ( _ like those of a girl),  _ and then he was freaking  _ snorting _ at him.

"I didn't kill her. I thought it was you."

Roman opened his mouth and closed it. It was so ludicrous, and say with such a nonchalant honesty that he wasn't even capable to muster a rightful indignation.

“Me? Why would I do it”

"Why would I?" Peter answered, looking as dumbfounded as Roman as if he was perfectly into the right to even ask this. As if he and Roman were the same. Equal. Roman just had no idea why it made him so fretful.

“People say you are a werewolf.” Was all the answer his stupid brain could muster. _(way to go, boy, very impressive come back) _

Peter pushed back his dark hair with a small smirk, making Roman heart almost skip a beat.

“You believe everything people say?”

“If you are not the killer then why did you come back? Is that a territory thing?" Roman persisted, feeling more like an idiot after each word that were leaving his mouth. Yet he couldn't stop.

Peter seemed to relax at this, probably getting by now that Roman was not an immediate threat and sat down on the grass.

“Territory is so bourgeois.”

“It really wasn’t you?”

“Please, try to contain your disappointment.” The gypsy chastised him, raising one dark eyebrow at him.

"I was just asking" Roman answered, a bit flushed. He sat down too, not really knowing what to do with Peter's relaxed behavior but not wanting to stop this conversation either. "Then who did it if not you?"

“Bear, cougar… Creative suicide?” Peter shrugged, looking slightly bored but not enough to leave. Roman found himself incredibly grateful for that. The need to just talk, to say everything he had on his heart to that strange teenager that looked at him patiently was almost unbearable.

“It is weird… I knew her. I mean… Not knew, knew you know? I saw her at parties and stuff. She liked my car… Now she is dead. How fucked up is that?!"

"It is a nice car" Peter answered simply, but without a trace of irony. Somehow, Roman felt thankful for that too.

He eyed Peter some more. Even in the dark, with the greasy overlong hair and hobo clothing, there was no denying how handsome he was. He seemed to belong here, on the earth, in an empty field close to a forest in the darkness of the night. Roman followed the curve of one thick black eyebrow to the striking blue eyes and said:

“I knew your uncle, or … Was he your uncle?”

“Vince? Yeah, he was.”

“He worked some stuff for my mother, not that she will ever admit it… And he used to crash to some of our bonfires with his bottle of cheap shit. I liked his stories the most.”

“Bet the girls weren't too impressed by them". Peter answered with a small smirk. It made him look younger suddenly, more accessible. It pleased Roman, for some reason.

“I didn't know him well" Peter started carefully, and Roman closed his mouth quickly, greedy for any confession the other boy would grant him. "He called me Petey, and I don't like that. But he would always slip me one last nip after Lynda cut me off and he had that thing, about falling asleep with his eyes open..."

“A neat trick.” Roman offered, eagerly, carving into his mind all those little details about the gypsy. Never in his life had he felt so enthralled by another living creature. Not even his cousin Letha.

“Exactly!” Peter nodded, boyish grin lighting up his face once more. He was just not handsome anymore, he was pretty, Roman mused.

A quiet moment passed between them, but it held none of the usual tension and awkwardness that silence could bring between two persons. Roman felt like he could say everything to him.

“I remember coming here with my dad. I don’t have many memories with him, but I remembered when I was pretty young and being here… I got stung on my toes. How helpless he was about me crying and not knowing why, until my foot swelled up like a tit with toes.”

They both smiled at the comparison.

"What happened to him?" Peter asked, without drama or anything, which made Roman liked him even more. He made a gun out of his fingers and mimicked his head being blown off.

“Shee-it” Peter said.

“Shee-it” Roman nodded.

“My mom said my dad is dead or something. She doesn't get more specific. I guess he just never came back from his search for that proverbial pack of smock. Ah! Ladybug!" Peter said suddenly, his fingers reaching for Roman lapel and pushing the insect off. So close of his face, Roman felt for a second the insane urge to nip at them. He buried it brutally and looked at the ladybug flying away instead of those strong fingers retreating.

“What is it like. Living like… you people?” Roman asked finally. He didn’t want to appear rude but he just didn’t know how to ask otherwise, and he was still thirsty for everything the gypsy thought, knew and felt. Peter was about to answer when a pair of headlights fell on them and a police light flashed silently.

“Shit” Peter growled.

“It's fine" Roman answered quickly, but Peter had already run for the tree line, hiding himself in its shadow. _(Damn gypsy)_

Two officers walked toward him with a flashlight. The fat one recognized Roman on the spot and grunted his name. Roman sighed to himself, police was such a dreadful, boring affair. How dared they interrupting him anyway?

“Officer.”

“It is a school night” Fatso started. “What are you doing here?”

“I am a night howl". Roman replied simply.

“Who was it with you? The gypsy trash?”

Roman shrugged. He would as soon sell Peter off than cutting his own hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Has Been Mustachioasked, flashing his torchlight in Roman face, trying to scare him. It was enough shit chat for Godfrey's heir. He had more interesting things to do, and more interesting people to attend. Starting by the strange boy hiding not too far away in the shadow. The mere fact that Peter had not just flee away was making Roman’s heart do funny things.

“Am I disturbing anyone officer?”

“A dead girl murder sight maybe?” Has Been Mustachio replied, voice dripping with disgust.

Roman shrugged, protecting his eyes from the light, feeling the little patience he had fleeing as quickly as a gypsy.

“So, what you and that punk gypsy were so chatty about?”

“The mysteries of mortality?” Roman answered casually, making Fatso see red.

“Okay, enough, whatever your name is kid, you are coming with me.”

He got toward Roman to grabbed at him, but the teenager just took one step forward, searching for his eyes with that strange cat-like stare that had attracted Peter's attention in the first place. Slowly, as if he was feeding a particularly stupid actor his lines he said: “Let’s drop this, his old lady’s gonna be a pain in the balls.”

Fatso opened then close his mouth, face suddenly devoid of emotions. Then he blinked and repeat Roman words out loud.

“What?!” Has Been Mustachio spurted, going toward them. Roman turned his stare on him and said: "Yeah, beat it, kid."

The officer repeated his words slowly like an automate.

“Yes sir.” the teenager answered sweetly, making a mock salute.

The officers returned toward their car, looking quite uneasy and muttering “Spooky little shit...” all along.

Once they were gone, Roman looked at Peter who was making his way back toward him carefully. He looked suspicious and wary, like a barely tamed cat. Roman wiped the blood that had trickled down his nose quickly, feeling both self-conscious and proud. Peter squinted his eyes at him.

“I bet you save tone shit of money on roofies.”

Roman said nothing, just looking at the gypsy, trying hard to read on his handsome features what was happening in his head. What did he think of this? What could Roman really tell him?

After a moment, Peter just shrugged in acceptance. Somehow, it filled Roman with glee.

*****

Once one was getting used to her … unusual appearance, there was no going around the fact Shelley Godfrey was a damn sweetheart. Peter had quickly taken a shine on her and started to flirt with her harmlessly every chance he got. The fact that she was higher up over the gypsy on the list of who was the most hated person in the school might have been a decisive factor. Also, it felt nice to have someone being actually nice to him aside from his mother in this town.

Roman hadn't tried to talk to him after that night on the field. He would stay close to his crew, only watching Peter from afar but never trying to make contact. It wasn't too much of a big deal for the gypsy. He hadn't thought for a minute that Godfrey's heir would actually talk to him in public.

Shelley was different and when the giant girl smiled at his antics, he didn't have to lie to tell her how pretty her smile was. It almost did make him forget about the fucking dicks that attended the school with them and sadly, they weren't ready to let themselves be forgotten.

"WOOOOOOH" One of the guys howled before pushing Peter so hard that his books landed on the floor. He didn’t answer, he had been on the wrong side of too many beating party to know that nothing was worth it.

She whined softly and typed.

"I am sorry". The electronic voice of her phone said.

"Nah, don't be sorry, you're too pretty" Peter smiled, oddly touched. She blushed behind the veil of her dark hair and he kneeled on the floor to get his books, the jerks already forgotten. Long elegant fingers almost met his hand on the mathematics book. It was Roman, of course. Cold cat eyes settling on him as they both went up.

“Get your fucking hand off of my sister.” He growled.

Peter snorted, sharing an amused laugh with Shelley.

“Is that funny, to you?” Roman pressed, looking anything but amused.

Peter exchanged a quick look with Shelley  _ (is that guy for real?) _ before shaking his head, mustering some sheepish attitude. 

A heavy second passed and then Roman just laughed, shaking his head, looking suddenly way younger than his seventeen years, making Peter snorted.

“I am sorry, I just always wanted to do that.”

“Threatening guys that found your little sister cute?”

“It made me looked cool.”

“Nah, it really didn’t.” Peter snorted, bumping playfully against Shelley, while she giggled.

A second passed, Roman looked at both of them with what looked like fondness to Peter and then asked him almost shyly if he wanted a ride home.

This set off many alarms in the gypsy head and suddenly, he didn’t feel like joking around anymore. In Peter's experience, nothing nice came for free, unless you actually stole it. And Roman was an Upir, that he knew it or not, a rich, entitled one on top of that.

“Why?”

The teenager shrugged, looking a bit offended. He shrugged.

“Why not?”

_ (Well why not indeed?) _ The stupidest part of Peter’s brain asked. 

*****

Roman quickly dropped Shelley at home before heading back to Peter’s place. He had thought about it the whole week, watching the gypsy from afar but unable to muster the courage to just go and talk to him. He had replayed their conversation that night time and time again and had found himself craving for more. He had observed the boy play flirting with his sister all week and it finally gave him a perfect window of opportunity to get alone with the gypsy.

Peter seemed oblivious of Roman (and pretty much everything else) once they were on the road. The wind was making his dark hair dancing around his face and his cheek a nice shade of pink. He looked beautiful like this, carefree and unrestrained. It was difficult for Roman to keep his eyes on the road.

“Nicolae must have the biggest boner in heaven right now.” The gypsy finally said, throwing his head back as if drunk from the wind itself before saying something in a strange language, sending a kiss to the sky.

Roman looked at him, intrigued. It was rare to see Peter so open and he wanted to get the most of it.

“He is my grandfather… We like wheels, _us_ people” The gypsy said, with a smirk.

“My dad use to drive me around in that car, he knew every back road and speed trap for hundreds of miles. My mom would have killed him if she had known the way he used to drove with me in the car. If he hadn't beat her to it."

Peter nodded seriously. His own father wasn’t around either and he could understand how Roman felt, or so Roman thought. Still, he didn't want to make his new acquaintance uncomfortable, so he added with a smirk:

“You know what they say about being raised by single mothers?”

Peter looked at him with interest, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. It was a good look on him, Roman decided. Not that he was gay or something. Anyone could see Peter was handsome. Nothing wrong in that.

“They said it made us sensitive. Chicks dig that kind of stuff.”

Peter snorted before laughing again, head threw back, open and real. Roman really started to have trouble keeping his eyes on the road.

“Well I am a pretty sensitive guy” Peter laughed again, making a crude gesture to weigh his point, making them both nearly split their sides laughing.

Roman really could count on his two hands the number of times he had felt so happy.

It was really too soon that they arrived in front of the old wooden stair that led to the forest and the Rumancek’s trailer. Roman just didn't feel like letting go of Peter yet. He looked around for a second and then his eyes landed on the gypsy's notebook. The doodling on the covert startled him and he swallowed thickly.

"It's weird… I had a dream about this last night..." He said, gesturing the notebook, not really believing how such a coincidence could really actually happened but at the same time, not surprised the slightest. There was something with Peter. He had felt it the moment he saw him, in his guts…

The gypsy looked at him blankly, all trace of past amusement long gone. The snake eating his tail on his notebook seemed to mock Roman.

“Can you feel it?”

“What?” Peter asked, looking now a bit bored, his hand already on the car door. Roman felt the sudden urge to grabbed him but quickly restrain himself. _(I am a Godfrey goddammit!)_

“Oh. That”

“Good… It’s good to know I am not crazy.” Roman said a bit breathlessly, his eyes searching for Peter’s.

The gypsy didn't look at him and stayed silent for a second, before getting out of the car. Then he turned back to Roman, looking way older than his seventeen years and said:

“Or you are not the only one.”

And with those words, he got down the stairs and disappeared into the trailer.

Roman stood there for a long moment, looking at the trashy place where Peter and his mother lived. It looked like a garbage dump mixed with wild forest. Somehow it seemed to fit what Peter was perfectly.

*****

Letha really liked her cousin, but sometimes, his mercurial spirit just made no sense to her. The homecoming party had been all nice and fun until he had just grabbed her, complaining about immeasurable boredom, and taking her outside.

The two Godfrey families never had been close, to begin with, but the death of Roman's father had put to an end any kind of reunion between them. Letha had gone to a different school, in a different town and they had reconnected with each other only early this summer when her parents took her out the awful elitist board-school she had been attending for way too long. Roman never attended such school, as one could expect from the heir of an empire such as the Godfrey's. Olivia would have never let him go so far from home, Letha thought with a bit of unease, like every time her thoughts dared contemplate her aunt.

Roman was mercurial and spoiled, always in movement, beautiful and adored when Letha was placid and mystical, not popular by any means and never wanted to be. Still, they had connected almost immediately, their polarity drawing them together better than their shared blood.

He was drunk but as always when she was with him in the car, he drove more carefully than she ever saw him do on his own. It was those little things she liked the most about him.

He shook his little alcohol flask in front of her and she refused, uneasy suddenly. She knew she had to tell him one day, about her secret, her little miracle, but she didn't like that. Telling her parents had been an obligation, for the safety of her baby, but it had torn her heart in pieces. She wanted to keep this for herself, close to her heart. The miracle the angel had put in her belly that summer. She also feared Roman reaction. He was volatile by nature and quite a bit of a drama queen.

"I saw you talk to the new guy. Denny even said that you drove him home once."

Roman looked at her strangely, his flask was suddenly forgotten.

“Yeah, and what of it?”

“I don’t like him.” Letha said thoughtfully. “He is always flirting around… Like those guys who think they are just so hot nobody can resist.” _(He is not even that handsome)_

Roman shrugged, looking uncomfortable, his attention now totally directed at the road.

“You don’t find him hot?”

“I guess he is… In a dirty kind of way?”

“Not your type I hope.” The teenager asked tightly. Letha noticed that his fingers were clenching the wheel a bit too tightly. She smiled. It was so Roman to get all worked up over nothing.

“Not at all. Don't be silly. I hate those kinds of arrogant asshole."

Roman whispered something between his teeth but the wind caught it before she could ear it.

“What?”

“Nothing. Come on, drink some, like a civilized person.” He pressed his flask once more into his hand.

_(And here we go again.)_

“Watch the road.”

They had just entered a wooden passage between two hills. It was dark and a bit scary.

“Come on, just a sip!”

“Drop it, Roman."

“We can drop it when you stop being a see you next Tuesday and have a drink.”

“Roman” She started, feeling at the end of the rope with him suddenly. “Let it go.”

“What?!” he asked, laughing, cheek pink from the wind and the alcohol. “Are you pregnant or something?!”

_(Well, at last, that part was easy…) _

Letha said nothing. What was to be said anyway. The cat was out of the bag now.

“Shut up” Roman shouted, looking way less intoxicated now.

She said nothing, feeling annoyed to no end now. He was such a child.

"Shut your lying whore mouth." He pressed, going to dirty insult as he would always do when he felt that things were getting out of control.  _ (out of his control really...) _

“I was waiting for the right moment.”

He drank again, then suddenly, pulled onto the side of the road and stopped the car. The 443 route was filled with many dips and blind curves, famous for the regular accident that occurred on it because of it.

Letha looked around them nervously, her hands reaching for her belly almost instinctively.

“Starts the car Roman.”

"Was it Tyler?" He asked tightly. Tyler was her ex-boyfriend. She dated him briefly in spring and Roman had always looked upon him as if he was just a trash bag on the side of the road.

“It wasn’t Tyler so now starts the car and stop being such a drama queen!”

“Who?” He asked again, as if he had not heard her, his eyes still on the road, hand tight on the wheel.

“I don't want to talk about it, Roman! Now starts the car I mean it!" She shrieked, starting to feel less uneasy and more angry by the minute.

“Who!”

“You sounds like the dumbest owl right now...” She started and suddenly he put his hand on the horn and pressed it.

“Who!?" He asked, loud enough to cover the honking noise that reverberates in the night.

“Stop it Roman!”

“WHO?!”

“STOP IT!” Letha screamed, grabbing his cold hand into hers.

He looked so lost, so… out there, that she took pity on him. She forgot sometimes, under all his bravado how sensitive he truly was.

“It was an angel.”

“Literally?” He asked voice devoid of all emotion.

“I was an angel” She repeated, softly trying to convey what it all meant to her.

“Tell me about it.”

“How would you describe the color of the sky to a blind man?”

“I have eyes that can see just fine.”

She turned her head around. She would say nothing more on this, and from the look he gave her, she knew he understood that. He took a long drink from the flask, turned the ignition and pulled back onto the road.

“Did you tell your folks?”

“They are… Adjusting.”

He snorted. Well, it was true enough. Her father was kind of getting there somehow. Her mother, religious to the core, not so much yet. He still talked about abortion, which for Letha was out of question. She said so to Roman who just swore out loud.

“He thinks it's all in my head."

Wisely, he said nothing.

“But I am having this baby” Letha added, with unquestionable authority. Nobody was touching her miracle. They could all suck it if they weren’t happy about it. “Deal with it.” She added for some measure.

“I didn’t say anything.”

_ (as you should if you know what’s good for you.)  _ She loved him so much but she was also deeply annoyed to have her precious secret out now. 

He said no more but picked up his iPod and put their song on the sound system. It was a pop-rock thing about a rich girl who sexually slums it with a poor boy. It was a private joke between them, Letha and Roman being the two only members of their group of friends being born with all the privileges human life could offer.

They rounded another bend and in the middle of the road, a man was lying directly in the path of the car. Roman slammed the brakes and barely managed to stop the car in time.

They stayed a minute in silence, hearts beating like crazy, song still blasting from the stereo. Finally, Roman turned it off and asked Letha if she was ok.

She was, besides the fact that she felt on the very verge of throwing up. Her attention turned almost immediately to the man on the road. He was grimacing, moaning and smashing his hand on his head.

“We should help him” She whispered, feeling a burst of pity for the poor vagrant man.

“Stay behind me." Roman said, getting out of the car, getting carefully close to him. Letha stood by the car, scared and feeling a bit helpless. The man was in a state. Unshaven, obviously suffering from some disease, with a dab of vomit on his clothes.

“Are you ok sir?”

“It’s not right!” The man spit, jerking his head around.

“Would you like to come with us?” Letha asked, getting a bit closer.

Roman looked at her, then at the man with open disgust.

“I am calling the paramedics.”

“I don’t want to seeeeee thaaaat….” The man whined pathetically, making Letha heart clenched.

Roman was already calling 911 and he wasn’t able to stop her to kneel beside the poor man.

“What’s your name?”

He looked at her with terrified incomprehension. Roman was giving their location to the paramedics, eyeing her worryingly.

“Ouroboros” The man suddenly whispered.

Then he started crying.

“Today I have seen the Dragon...” She held out her hand for him, trying to give comfort to that poor mad creature.

“Don't..." Roman screeched, still holding the phone. The man took her hand in his and held it. More gently than she ever had been held. It almost made her forget the horrid smell and the sticky feel of those.

“I am Letha.”

Roman just hung up and gently drew Letha away. He seemed at the end of his wit and couldn’t hide his open disgust anymore. Letha couldn’t really blame him.

“Ok boss. Let’s move on the side of the road before we all got up to the count of the roadkill victims of this town.” He said with a fake smile and tried to help the man get up.

Suddenly, the man started screaming bloody murder and Letha instinctively took a step back, holding her belly protectively. Roman leap back, swearing.

The man desperately crawled on the side of the road, away from them screaming and crying:

“YOU!” IT WAS YOU IT WAS YOU IT WAS YOU!!”

Roman was looking worryingly still and quiet, so Letha sprung to action and pulled him gently toward the car, still eyeing the poor mad creature that was now crying in the ditch, saying over and over again how he just didn't want to see anymore.

That certainly was a homecoming Letha would never forget.

*****

On the afternoon of October 29, Roman decided that waiting for Peter to come to him was a waste of time. It was not going to happen, and if he wanted it to happen, which he was not so sure, but still… wanted… He would have to take the matter into his own hands.  _ (that’s what a real Godfrey would do) _

Peter was next to him in English class, obviously not really listening to the courses but doodling on his notebook as he would usually do. Watching Peter had almost become second nature in that last month and Roman felt deeply ashamed about it. The worse was the fact that Peter seemed perfectly content to just let that thing between them as it was. He was still outrageously flirting with Shelley from time to time but never attempted any contact with him whatsoever. Never in his life Roman had been ignored so thoughtfully and it wasn't a feeling he wanted to get used to, especially from a trash gypsy bag that didn't seem able to wash his hair more than once every blue moon.

Thinking about the moon had Roman wondered. It was the full moon tonight. He let his eyes traced Peter’s scruff, from his neck to his red lips, only one thought turning in circle in his head.  _ (What if?) _

On an impulse Roman quickly tore down a piece of paper from his own notebook and write carefully:

**Can I watch? ** Somehow confident that Peter would understand what he was asking for. 

"Are you passing notes, mister Godfrey?" Their teacher asked sharply as he sent his message flying toward Peter's desk.

"Would not dream of it Ma'am" Roman answered, mustering his most charming smile. She rolled her eyes and turned around again. He knew she would not dare put him in detention. Not teachers would dare even if he started dancing naked on their desks.

Peter looked at him blankly, read the note, then crushed it between his rough fingers.

To Roman utter dismay and crushing disappointment, he didn't give him even one look for all the rest of the morning. At lunch, Roman was a wracking ball of nerves. Even Letha gentle touch couldn’t calm him and he kept looking out for the black dirty mope of hair and finding none. Not the one he was interested in anyway. He came soon to the conclusion that that gypsy shit had just brushed him off as if he was no one and it felt a bit like the end of the world.

But Peter was a strange and unpredictable fellow and as such, he surprised Roman by joining him in front of his locker after the last class of the afternoon. Roman felt such excitement at the mere sight of him that he didn’t even feel the embarrassment to be seen with the gypsy by his  _ friends.  _

“Come by around five.” Peter said simply, before leaving as if nothing had happened.

Denny Fritz snorted. “Holy shit, is that Gypsy butt-pirate asking you out?”

Roman turned around and gave him a look that had the other boy gasping.

“Eat a tampon, you uncouth mongoloid.” He said sweetly, before turning around in search for Shelley. If he wanted to make it in time he had to move on quick.

*** **

Lynda liked to think about herself as the kind of super cool mom. She was totally ok with sharing some grass with her baby, having some girls there at night and so on… But this. After all those years, one could have thought she had raised a smart boy. A prudent, reliable, beautiful boy. But no. Today she just learned that her miracle of a baby was just another teenage boy like every other one. Stupid and reckless.

It was almost the time and Peter already was a sweaty antsy mess.

"How could you be so careless!" She cried out for what felt like a thousand times already.

Peter shook his head, looking young and lost and so damn striking that she felt some of her anger drained of her.

“I told you to stay away from this family Peter.” _(Freaking Upir. As if that town wasn’t bad enough already…)_

“He just asked me and I didn’t know what to answer!”

“_No_ Peter, the good answer, the _only _sensible answer was _no_!”

“Well I know that and I wasn’t going to say that I swear!”

“Then why didn’t you?!”

“I don’t know. I just said yes ok! I just… I just have this feeling that something very important is about to happen… and...” He stopped, deflating suddenly, falling down onto the couch, making Lynda’s mother heart clench like only Peter could make it do.

Suddenly it all made sense.

“Oh baby” She sighed, resigned and heart full enough to burst. “I get it ok. I get it.”

He looked at her with his adorable puppy eyes, watery and deep, lost.  _ (So fucking lost.) _

She hugged him tightly.

“You never had a friend before.”

And she got it, really she did. For people like them, even half breed, family was everything. Peter had grown up around so many cousins, never alone. But when their affairs had started to get sour, they had to move around way more than it was recommended for a child. Getting farther from their closest relative, leaving Peter on his own, a stranger among people that didn't know him and hated what he represented. He must have felt so lonely. But showing himself like this, and for a Godfrey? An Upir on top of this, Lynda couldn't get her nerves to settle down. What if that rich little shit decided to run his mouth? Worse, what if his mother decided to get involved? For this, at last, Lynda still had Vince special medication and she knew that Olivia Godfrey would come to her at some point. It could be leverage enough. She took her son's face between her rough hand and looked at him.

“Are you sure you can trust that Godfrey kid?”

“I… Don’t know. I just… There is something about him mom.”

“Baby, if that _something_ is related to your dick...” She warned him, feeling like this could very well turn into a big sandwich of crap for her son to eat very soon.

“No! Come on!" He replied, looking not as scandalized as she would have liked. It took her time to accept the fact that for all Peter's love for very busty company, he was not against a bit of dick on the side from time to time. She had found some magazines, some accessories… It had been hard to swallow at the time but Peter never really acted on it and… He was her son. She loved him. It was as simple as that.

“I really hope that those balls of yours know what they're doing kiddo." She answered finally, feeling already drained, but incapable to continue. Peter was already on edge and the last thing she wanted was to was him having a bad trip while changing. It was always worse when he was sick or anxious, the transformation taking more time, appearing more painful. It was so late already.

*** **

When Roman arrived at the trailer door, the sky was already all shades of red and purple. He was feeling giddy and anxious, not knowing what to expect or even why he decided to come here in the first place.  _ (Maybe I’m getting crazy? As crazy as this gypsy shit...) _

A woman in her forties opened the door. She had mid-long brown hair and nice warm eyes the same coloring. Like Peter, she wore worn used, cheap clothes and looked rough around the edges, but even though she could hold no candle to a woman like Olivia, she was still a beautiful woman. She looked at Roman sharply and introduced herself as Lynda, Peter’s mother before letting him in.

The interior was a weird collection of disparate furniture and weird, eclectic rubbish shits from all styles and eras. It was small and cramped, the whole trailer barely the size of Roman’s bedroom and yet, it felt strangely cozy and welcoming. There was a sort of cabinet devoted to the god Ganesh, gaudily bordered with Christmas lights like the Virgin of Guadalupe. A black and white picture of an old man was claiming the central spot of that strange altar. Roman, a bit confused, turned toward Peter that had just joined him.

“Are you guys Hindu or something?”

Peter shook his head with a little smile. “That is my grandfather, Nicolae and this is Ganesh, the god of new beginnings… He used to love that stuff but I am pretty sure he never actually knew what it was all about. He would always call him Jumbo and ask him if what he had between his legs was anything like his nose.”

Roman brows wrinkled and Peter shrugged. “Nic was a real class act.”

There was an embarrassing moment of silence and then, Lynda just came around and pushed Roman toward the couch, commanding him to sit. She sat next to him in the armchair while Peter took place on a chair close to the windows. She asked Roman if he wanted some milk to go with the peanut butter cookies she had placed in front of him which surprised him.

“Sure" Roman answered distractedly, eyes constantly pulled toward Peter. He was sweaty and nervous looking in a way Roman never saw him before and the teenager didn't know what to do with that. The very tight, open shirt he was wearing was also very distracting for some reason.

“Honey?” Lynda asked, gesturing the milk carton toward her son.

“Nah.” Peter answered quickly and she nodded then turned toward Roman.

“Lactic acid. It does funny things to the tummy."

Roman looked at Peter again, asking himself if it was a werewolf thing. He had no problem with milk himself. He smiled politely to Lynda and she suddenly became serious again in a way that made Roman understand he was sitting there for the roasting. He swallowed some of his milk awkwardly, preparing himself.

“So, meeting a friend of Peter… First time for everything." She began slowly, not letting go of his eyes even an instant. Generally, people felt quite uneasy looking at him in such a way and so, Roman felt quite off balance suddenly. Still, he felt his heart skipping a beat at the implication of what he just had heard. He was Peter's friend. The first one. The only one. And if there was something than Roman, spoiled and adored as he was could appreciate, it was the rarity of something, especially something he found himself desiring dearly. He looked at Peter again who was now adverting his eyes, blushing slightly. It was a good look on him, Roman decided suddenly, before smothering that thought almost instantly.

“A good friend I hope.” Lynda suddenly added with a singular weight in her voice. As if all this was real. As if her son was really going to change into a wolf at sundown. Was she as crazy as Peter then? Or just enabling her son out of motherly love? She seemed quite sane to Roman. Not like that whole situation.

“What will you do after graduation?” She asked casually, giving him some more milk and pushing the cookies plate toward him.

“I guess my mom will bribe my way somewhere decent." Roman answered, his eyes not leaving Peter for more than a second. God forbid that Olivia Godfrey would let her son go so far from home even for College education. It was fine with Roman. He had lived here all his life and hadn't wished for more. Not until now anyway.

“I see.” Lynda answered. “That’s nice.”

Roman looked at his watch and then at Peter again. His fingers were tapping nervously on the little side table next to him. His fingernails were really long and Roman noticed that his index and middle fingers were the exact same length.

Lynda put a hand on Peter’s arm, soothing him down a bit.

“He gets nervous beforehand, hormones, you see?”

“I have Xanax” Roman said helpfully, feeling like he wouldn’t be judge of chastised by a woman who thought her son was a werewolf.

Peter shook his head again. All words seemed to have left him now. He was sweating abundantly and looked pale and slightly sick.

Lynda, at Roman mild surprise, accepted his offer. He took of the little tin mint box where he was keeping his happy pills and produced two Xanax. Peter's obvious nervousness was contagious and he really felt the need to calm down for what was about to happen. Peter had started to take off his rings one by one, putting them in a leaf looking pot that was obviously placed there for that very purpose.

"Does it hurts?" He asked suddenly, having no idea of how such a transformation could occur if it was going to really happen.

Peter looked at him thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t notice if a bus hit you”

It was quite a mysterious answer for Roman but he felt that it might be a touchy subject.

“Are you still you?”

The gypsy looked at him again, the word  _ guess  _ shinning in his eyes as loudly as if he had said it out loud. He then took off his necklace.

“He is a good boy” Lynda added with a proud smile, pinching Peter thigh with all the strength of motherly love. “He’s his mother’s handsome little honeybun.”

Roman felt a little pang of jealousy at that display of affection. He didn't question Olivia's love for him, but he had often wished in his youth that she would show it in more obvious ways. Peter who had grown with nothing and was nothing himself but a gypsy possessed something Roman had long yearned for and it wasn't sitting well with him. Still, his eyes could not stop tracing the other teenager's features. Even in that state, there was no denying how handsome he was. This too, didn't sit well with Roman.

A few minutes before five-thirty, the three of them went outside. Lynda held Roman by the door as Peter got forward. The teenager then removed all his clothes as if it was something he was doing on a regular basis (probably actually was…) and again, Roman could not stop his eyes from roaming.

He was pale, but less so than Roman and had quite a few moles all over his body. Roman eyes trailed on his broad shoulders, to his pink nipples, toward the thick black hair down his lower belly to his uncircumcised penis. His eyes stood there for a bit too long, but Roman shrugged it off quickly. He was no homo. He, himself was circumcised, like all of his friends. He was actually quite certain it was the first time he saw an uncut dick for real. It was normal to be curious about those things.

On Peter's ribcage, a G was tattooed.

“What’s the G stand for?” Roman asked, feeling greedy for every detail.

“Go suck an egg.” Peter answered, in a way that showed that he had no patience left for Roman. His whole body was coated with sweat, shining with the last ray of sun that was setting down behind him.

He walked forward, spat on his hand and slicked his hair back off his face. It was as though the scent of falling night soothed his shaky nerves and he moved with the grace and authority invested by no lesser power than the earth itself. The ambient air felt suddenly so heavy, so pregnant with something that Roman could quite not described or even understand. The teenager felt the hairs on his skin raising and a chill down his spine. The whole forest was silent now as if nature itself was preparing for what was about to happen. Feeling a sudden and inexplicable feeling of dread, Roman turned toward Lynda to ask her if they were safe here. 

“it’s fine” She answered calmly. “Just stand back. Don’t go close, under no circumstances.”

Despite the Xanax he had taken earlier, Roman felt on edge. He snapped his fingers and said.

“Darn!”

“What?” Lynda asked.

“I forgot to bring a Frisbee.”

Peter finally turned his attention to them and gave Roman a finger.

“Don’t joke.” Lynda said with a small smile.

A black cat got out of the trailer and sat nearby, seemingly waiting for what was about to come too.

As the sun went down, Roman experienced the most horrific and yet beautiful sight he ever had seen in his whole life. He looked, open-mouthed and trembling, grabbing at Lynda for support, as Peter's very skin was torn apart from the inside in an insane amount of blood a gore, letting a big black wolf in his wake. The beast kicked his hind legs, shaking off the rest of his human coat with a growl. It stood there a moment, incredibly tall, still slick from the yolk of its birth. It was so beautiful Roman couldn’t catch his breath, still leaning against Lynda, feeling off-centered and weak like a newborn child.

He had not actually known what to expect from that evening. Being still half-convinced that Peter might have been a lunatic maniac coming here. But what he never had thought would be that tonight, two very essentials truths would be revealed to him: That men can become wolves, _ (real actual fucking wolf) _ and if you have the privilege to be the witness of such transformation, it is the most natural and beautiful thing you will ever saw. 

“Fuck” Roman whispered, with something akin to reverence.

The wolf looked at them, regal, king of the night with the moon as his queen. His jaw was larger than the one of an actual wolf and his white fangs were curved and sharp, like those of a feline. It yawned and shook the remaining of blood and gore from his fur.

Lupus Sapiens, Roman thought suddenly. The wise wolf.

For the teenager who had lived here all his life, finally meeting the lord of the forest made him feel incredibly small and humble.

The cat inquisitively approached the wolf which gave him a peremptory and aloof sniff before turning his attention on the remains of his human body. With wet, gnawing sounds, he started eating the slobs of flesh, starting with Peter’s blue eyes.

"Can I… Pet him?" Roman asked Lynda, as he started to recover ( to the extent he ever would be).

“Not while he is eating.” She warned him, squeezing his arm with one strong hand.

“Peter?” He said.

The wolf had finished his supper and looked over him, snout red with gore. Roman could not decipher any kind of recognition into his old yellow eyes. What was obviously absent was any kind of canine usual display of interest or affection. Werewolf were not pack animal. They were wild, magical creatures, as ancient and inscrutable as the universe itself. That revelation filled Roman with a never-ending sense of wonder and adoration.

Peter, having a whole new world of smells waiting, turned around and disappeared into the wood.


End file.
